


Prompt Fill: Spine Kink

by Hawkbringer



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Abrupt Ending, Anatomy, Author needed a guide to write all that Latin, Back Pain, Bathing/Washing, Demon Sebastian Michaelis, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kink Meme, Latin names for various muscles, Light Masochism, M/M, Master/Servant, Medical Jargon, No Underage Sex, Nudity, Prompt Fill, Reader may want a guide, Sebastian Michaelis intentionally triggers Ciel as a form of teasing, Underage - Freeform, Undressing, as a form of stress-testing, awkwardly left-in japanese terminology, back massage, spine kink, which ciel always recovers from stronger than before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23313412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer
Summary: Sebastian works over Ciel's back with bare hands and knuckles, but with the boy pliant and agreeable beneath him, the demon can't help a little teasing...
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Kudos: 29





	Prompt Fill: Spine Kink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [that anon on the kink meme from 6 years ago](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=that+anon+on+the+kink+meme+from+6+years+ago).



> Original Prompt: "I'll ask for some spine play.  
> The catch? Only touching the back is allowed. No hands on the front, except to hold the other if you must. Allowed zone goes from backside (and yes, anal is allowed as long as you relate it to the rest and it's not random) to neck.  
> But seriously. You have a meter's worth of nerve and bone. Perfect to explore or experiment with (I'm not going for gore, but with a talented hand I'm sure you can stimulate nerves there. Whether for pleasure or pain, it's your choice.)  
> Fetichism of that zone is of course very much appreciated.  
> THERE. TELL ME IT COUNTS AS A KINK.  
> Pairing would be Sebastian/Ciel if possible, but I won't be picky. And I don't have anything against shota (at all) "
> 
> I'm thinking massage kink. Like, Sebby giving Ciel a massage after a long mission, pushing hard on the knots, the soft cracks, Ciel's grunts... Mmmm, I'm liking this one better and better already! Plus, the thickness of the muscles, the voluptuous flesh, the amount of squeezing it can take, compared to the delicate-organ-filled front.

He starts with his shoulders, as the boy has been carrying them high all night. 

"Seb/ast/ian," he fairly spits out, half-turning to face his butler. "What are you /doing/ back there?" 

Sebastian smiles, aware the boy didn't intend to sound so innocent or so naughty, and answers simply, "Young Master has been through much today, and while it is a regular occurrence..." - he sees the temporalis on either side jump as Ciel limits his irritated flinch to just his ears - "Carrying such tension in your muscles will give you aches and pains tomorrow. What kind of butler would I be if I let that happen to my master, after such a stressful ordeal?"

"Hmmpf. Hardly stressful... Honestly, Sebastian, if you keep treating me like a child..." His butler cuts in before he can concoct a suitably insulting punishment.

"My young master is not /just/ a child, I know that very well." He leans forward slowly, his gloved hands telegraphing the movement to prevent Ciel from tensing again. "Why do you think I chose you, after all? /Hmmm?/" The questioning hum is low-voiced and Ciel does not flinch, but displays goosebumps instead. Upon seeing this, Sebastian's lips part in what others would call a smile. "And I chose so /well./ You have been most entertaining, my young master. If only in your refusal to treat me as anything but a mere convenience, despite all the inhuman feats I have accomplished for you. Hm-hm, yesss... You do amuse me greatly." Ciel purposefully lowers his shoulders in response to Sebastian's words, unwilling to give the demon more 'entertainment' by displaying fear or reticence at what was, after all, a simple touch.

"Very well," he replies lazily, raising a hand to loosen his own tie. "If you insist on /relieving my tension/, I suppose you will run me a bath." It wasn't /quite/ a question and Sebastian lifts his hands to watch the boy's incomplete efforts to undress himself. 

"Of course, my young lord." He smiles and bows and steps out from behind Ciel to run the bath only after Ciel's hands have drifted back down to his sides. 

In the bathroom, Sebastian watches with face perfectly impassive as the boy undresses himself further, dropping dirt-smudged shirts and trousers, and drawers still clean, to the tiled floor and raises one leg to step into the tub. The action exposes his sex from the front and Sebastian's eyes flick away against his own will in precisely the moment he would have preferred them to be /looking/. 

His butler's and his demon's instincts do not always fight, but recently, when they do, Sebastian has been finding the butler to be winning, to his great chagrin. His black nails would be so unsightly against his master's pale skin in this room of white and pale cream, so he leaves the gloves on. It will be a simple matter to change them later. Sebastian admires his own hands as they soap up a cloth and ghost over his little master's skin. 

He supresses a shiver as the gloves get soaked in warm water, as they turn partially translucent and let the contract seal seep to the surface like oil and ink. He comes back to himself to find himself up on his knees behind the boy, arms stretched taut beneath his white shirtsleeves to lather and rinse the boy's extended leg. He fantasizes briefly about interlacing his fingers with the boy's toes, perhaps trailing his fingertips up the inside of his knee, but, as he wishes to retain his hearing for the moment, he decides against it. 

Rinsing Ciel liberally and enfolding his whole body in a large towel that wouldn't cover nearly enough of him once the boy actually /grew/, Sebastian leads him back to the bedroom, where he has failed to lay out night clothes. Ciel turns his good eye on him blankly, eyebrow raised and Sebastian easily anticipates the question. 

"To relieve the tension of your muscles, my lord. Please, seat yourself on this stool," he persuades gently, picking up the nearby stool and placing it directly beside the bed. "If you would lean forward and place your arms and head on the bed, master. That will be the least strenuous position for you." Ciel blinks to cover his confusion, steps closer to the stool, then slides the towel down to his waist. Sitting down upon it facing Sebastian, then spinning it to face the bed, he leans halfway forward but he must feel some sudden self-consciousness as his erector spinae twitch briefly and he sits back up. 

"As though you are exhausted, young master. The way you fold your arms upon the desk after too many hours of Elizabeth's company," Sebastian encourages, a smile spreading on his face at that last. Ciel wavers, unsure whether to insult Sebastian for that, but it is certainly the truth and he cannot fault Sebastian for being /perceptive/, of all things, so he completes the move, heaving a deep breath to remind himself of his exhaustion from just an hour ago. 

The deep stretch of his spine allows Sebstian unfettered access to the whole of his back, but to keep him from startling, Sebastian decides to start at his neck.

"Bocchan," he begins, rolling his sleeves up more firmly. "I must warn you. My gloves are still wet from bathing you, and will be cold against your skin. Would you rather I remove them?" 

"Nngh," Ciel replies, shoulder blades shifting as he folds his arms beneath his head and props his chin on top of his hands. 

"very well, my lord," Sebastian smiles, and removes both gloves smartly with his teeth. He rubs his hands together to rid them of the residual wet chill, and places both of them at Ciel's neck, where his still-damp hair curls away from his skin. 

He starts off efficiently, identifying the tense muscle groups by touch and pressing into them, rubbing in small circles and avoiding the large veins. The shoulders, of course, take longer, and Ciel's head drops with each forward push, slipping off his arms entirely as Sebastian does something particularly effective with the folded knuckles of his left hand. 

"Nnn! Haah," Ciel pants, twisting his neck to the side as something /slips/ and almost immediately starts hurting /differently/. "What," he manages to huff out with his head facing his pillows, unable to see Sebastian. "What are you..."

"I am manipulating the muscles of your shoulders and neck, bocchan, in order to convince them to /relax/..." He places unnecessary stress on the last word as the splenius capitis on the right side gives him more trouble than he expected. "Stretch your arms out, bocchan, and tuck your chin in, please. Only temporarily." Ciel obeys, and just that fact gives Sebastian a little thrill in the pit of his stomach that he puts aside to savor at a later time. He swiftly walks his fisted knuckles down the boy's spine, unsurprised by the lack of give in the muscles as he attempts to squish them against the vertebrae. Ciel grunts as Sebastian manipulates the mass of fascia at the center of his lower back, unappreciative of his efforts. 

"/Relax/ me," he half-grunts, half-barks. "Don't make it all ache /more/." 

"But that is precisely how I /must/ relax you, bocchan," Sebastian soothes, unballing his fists and pushing the heels of his palms hard into the worked-over flesh. "Making your muscles ache /now/ will prevent them from aching /later/. There is no polite way to work out all this tension, my young lord. I /am/ truly sorry that you assumed this would be pleasant."

Ciel grunts at his nonsensical explanation. "Then I order you to lay off the aching now business or whatever you were doing and do something /pleasant/ to my back. That palm thing was nice..." he trails off in a mutter that Sebastian nevertheless perfectly understands.

"Very well, my lord," Sebastian responds with a smile in his voice and without a pause begins digging the heels of his palms into the young lord's shoulders, twisting them in circles and kneading them side to side. Ciel attempts to roll his shoulders under the unfamiliar pressure, but Sebastian unfolds his hand to hold him still. The sensation of a large, bare hand with fingers wrapping /around/ his shoulder entirely makes Ciel still and Sebastian can tell it isn't in relaxation. 

As a balm, he tightens his grip and loosens it, shifts his hand towards the knob of the end of his clavicle, and squeezes there too. He treats Ciel's entire shoulder in this manner, on both sides, and when he reaches the junction of his neck, he lays his thumbs very softly against the skin and rubs the pad back and forth. He then opens his hands and slides them sensously down the entire large expanse of Ciel's back, fingers catching slightly on the brand but not stopping. 

Ciel's breath catches despite Sebastian's lack of reaction to the scar, and by now, he's leaning hard against the bed, the back of his legs barely touching the stool, the towel in danger of falling off. 

Deciding this moment is as good a one as any, Sebastian knees the stool forward, sending Ciel sprawling out half over the mattress. He pulls the towel up over the cleft of the boy's skinny backside, and presses his thighs to the backs of the boy's, pinning his legs against the side of the bed, his feet not touching the floor. 

His ass truly is in prime position for fucking, Sebastian thinks, running his hands very lightly over the curve of Ciel's lower back before the boy's shocked inaction shatters and he thrashes something awful and Sebastian has to step back for fear of bruised shins.

Ciel steps back from the bed, clutching the towel about his waist with a wild look in his eyes and Sebastian sees, can /sense/, the old familiar fears that have risen like drowned corpses to the surface again, and while he would normally delight in the spice they add to Ciel's soul, to his very /scent/, that is /not/ the one he wants to be experiencing right now. 

He is not in the mood for tasting /fear/. 

He dips his head and observes his black and shining shoes, their contrast with Ciel's neat row of toes and pale toenails, opposite his own. 

"My lord," he begins softly to forestall a slap. 

It does not work. 

Without his rings, it does, of course, hurt /less/, and really, on the level, it does not hurt /at all/, and they both know that, but it's the principle of the thing. So he pauses to act contrite with his eyes closed for a few seconds before continuing. 

"My lord. I understand you object to my proximity, but do you wish for me to cease or continue with my hands upon your back?" 

Fighting down his instinctive reaction to scream, "Absolutely, Sebastian, never touch me again, /ever/!!" Ciel thinks over the logical consquences of such an order and breathes hard through his nostrils to calm the madness in his head. "Yes, Sebastian," he says aloud, if only to shut up the screaming of the frightened child in his head (of the many voices crying in his head when he contemplates his heirloom ring, Ciel has been hearing, recently, the addition of a child's voice. A very familiar child's voice. His /own/.) Putting aside contemplation of whether or not this means he is /already/ dead, and if so, how long he has been dead /for/, Ciel focuses on avoiding further display of weakness when all his servant was doing was servicing his body. 

/That's right,/ Ciel forcibly reminds himself, shutting out the animalistic sobbing of things that once were children by practice and effort alone, /He does this on my orders. I can stop him any time. Perhaps I will, just to prove it to you, dammit./ He breathes harshly through his nose again, uncertain to whom it needed to be proved. Sebastian? Himself? The dead or dying child? /Me,/ he decides, muscling past alternative explanations by his decree alone, as he is very used to doing in all the other realms of his life. /This is just another game. Another game I cannot help but win. Yes, it's inevitable. I am the Game Master, after all. The king of Funtom Toys. I will /make/ that mean something./ 

His final nasal breath comes slower, and lasts longer and Sebastian raises his head, confident he will be dealing with his /master/ when he meets his eyes. 

He is right. The two-colored eyes are half-lidded when his eyes behold them, the crazed-hot fire gone, chilled back into steel. "Yes, your hands upon my back were...pleasant enough." He does struggle to find a neutral enough term for the aching pleasurable burn they had seared deep into his flesh. "But your groin upon my arse was less so." He twitches one eyebrow, waiting for Sebastian to upbraid him for his language so he can make the retort that Sebastian's actions were to blame, after all. 

But he does not. He only adopts a contemplative face and eventually opines, "Would my hands upon your back and my thighs upon the backs of your legs be acceptable, master? There is the possibility of you lying face-down upon the bed, and I could kneel upon your thighs. I would be able to reach your back easily that way."

Ciel instinctively dislikes the idea, but pushes past it to actively imagine the scene, being certain to place /Sebastian/, with his eternally-mocking smile, in the dominator's position; Sebastian, whose face he has clutched in terror, whose garments he had designed by thought alone when first they met, Sebastian, who is under irrevocable orders to never betray him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written 18th aug 2014, or earlier. //s indicate italics I refuse to put in because I write in the basic-ass Notepad app with no Rich Text. 
> 
> As always, big apologies for the unfinished nature of the fic!! I usually wouldn't post unfinished fics at all, but the Great Quarantine of 2020 is giving me all the time in the world, and I think it's still a good read!


End file.
